Stuck on You
by Meg-atron3
Summary: Dean is emotionally stunted, Sam's a frustrated mess, and no power on earth will change that. But it can make for some humorous situations. Set somewhere in early season 2, hence the angstiness.


Sam hitched the backpack up higher on his shoulder as Dean dumped a plastic shopping bag into it.

"Are we done yet?" Sam asked, squinting against the bright sun. The colorful booths all around them shaded the vendors, but the sun was directly above them now, pounding down on Sam's head as he stood in the middle of the dusty aisle. Flea markets were prime spots to pick up tarnished silver on the cheap. They were down to their last 2 silver bullets, and Dean had been harping all week about their need to cast more.

"Calm down, man. It's slim pickin's and high prices here." Dean glared at his brother.

Sam stuck out a hand, stopping Dean from walking away from him. "Gimme some cash and I'll see what I can find. Why don't you just sit down and eat something?"

"Don't mother me, Sam!" Dean voice took on a hard edge, and his eye's flashed in anger.

Sam clenched his jaw and fought down the urge to punch his brother right across his stupid, secretive face. "I'm not mothering you," he ground out. "You are crabby. Because you are hungry. Go. Eat."

Dean scowled at Sam, but pulled out his cash and peeled off a few bills for him. "I'll meet you at the car," he said shortly and stalked off without waiting for a reply.

Sam turned his face up to the blistering sun, clenching both fists and silently screamed his frustration. He was used to Dean being closed-mouthed. Reserved. Taciturn even. But this latest bout of sullen brooding was causing Dean to leak emotion like a motel faucet. Angry, pugnacious, annoying leakage that splashed all over Sam.

He knuckled one tired eye, then wiped away the sweat that was forming on his forehead. He just wanted to get enough silver to pacify Dean, then retreat to the dubious comfort of their air conditioned motel room.

Deciding on the booths to his left, Sam began his slow, methodical search for anything silver. The first booth was all antique wood furniture, the next was women's clothing, the next maybe doll stuff. Sam didn't look too closely since there was a clown right in front.

The fourth booth looked promising. Old coins, jewelry, little tin snuff boxes and random unidentifiable stuff was scattered across a faded green tablecloth. Sam stooped down to peer at the motley collection of items. A little old man with no hair, but a surprisingly young face pushed himself out of the camp chair he was sitting in.

"What'cha interested in, boy?" His voice was a wheezy drawl.

"Anything silver. Coins, broken jewelry, that sort of thing. I like to melt it down and create my own things, so anything cheap." Sam smiled innocently at the little man.

"Well, these things here are silver," he said, pointing at a few items, then pushing them into a small pile. "But if you're wantin' more, I got a whole bin of broken bits ya can buy."

He sank below the table, and emerged with an old tackle box. Opening it, he pulled out a handful of chains without claps, single earrings and rings that were broken in half. He dropped them into the pile on the table and grinned at Sam. "Give all of it to ya for 20 bucks."

Sam dug into his pocket. It was actually a great deal, and while part of him felt like he was cheating this old man, he wanted the silver and the air conditioned motel room more. He slapped the twenty on the table, smiling as he said, "Deal!" The old man made the bill disappear like magic and Sam scooped the large pile of silver into his hand and crammed it in his front pocket. With a smile and a wave, Sam left the booth and headed down the aisle.

Three more booths, and the backpack was heavier now with a mismatched set of silver candlesticks, a handful of silver spoons and more broken jewelry. His cash was almost gone and he was sure there was more than enough silver for a year's worth of silver bullets. Dean had said slim pickings, but Sam had done just fine. Maybe if Dean had a better attitude and didn't radiate anger like a warning sign he would have had better luck.

Sam stopped at a little cart and bought a lemonade. He thought about buying one for Dean too, but he thought about how pissy Dean was being and decided not to. Possibly he was being childish, but if Dean wanted a lemonade, he could buy himself one. Taking a sip of the cold drink, he wandered back in the direction of the Impala.

Dean was slouched down low in the driver's seat, his eyes closed while he hummed a song under his breath. The radio was off so he wouldn't drain the battery while he waited for Sam to finish up the shopping. He jumped as the passenger door of the car creaked open, and Sam folded his ridiculous height into the seat.

"Got enough?" Dean inquired without looking at his brother.

"More than enough. There was actually a lot there, and for good prices." Sam replied with a touch of condescension.

"Well?" Dean paused. "Let's see it." Though unsaid, it was obvious from his tone that Dean was skeptical Sam had returned as victorious as he claimed.

"What? You don't trust me, Dean? You think I can't buy silver without somehow screwing it up?" Sam's hackles were raised. He was so sick and tired of Dean treating him like a child in need of protection.

He shoved the backpack into Dean's lap and sat scowling while Dean unzipped it and looked in. "That all of it?" Dean asked in a neutral voice.

Sam silently dug his hand into his front pocket and pulled out a handful of silver jewelry and coins. Dean held open a ziplock bag a vendor had placed the spoons in and Sam tipped the items in it.

The necklaces and earrings tipped in, tumbling over tarnished silver coins to fill the bag. One large silver coin was stuck to Sam's palm, and he shook his hand to dislodge it. It was still stuck. Sam tried to use the bottom of the plastic cup of lemonade he was holding in his right hand to move it, but there must be something sticky on it, because it stayed on his palm.

Dean gave Sam and his futile attempts to dislodge a stupid coin a withering look. Sam shook his hand over the bag again. Dean reached out his right hand and tried to grab the coin with his fingers. It remained stuck to Sam's hand, and Dean's fingers seemed to be glued to it as well. Pulling hard, willing to lose a bit of skin to remove himself from his brother's hand, Dean gritted his teeth as an electric current fizzled through his fingers and up his hand.

"Sam, what the hell did you do?" Dean was angry now. As if they didn't have enough on their plates right now, restarting the prank war was just idiotic.

"Stop it Dean!" Sam's voice was starting to tinge with panic as he realized the coin was really stuck to his hand. "Get your fingers off it, it's not funny!"

"I'd love to Sam," Dean huffed. "They're stuck. What did you DO?"

"I didn't do anything! It's just an old coin! Why is it stuck?" Sam put the lemonade down on the car floor between his feet and reached out his free hand to pull the coin off.

"Don't!" Dean practically yelled.

"Shut up, Dean!" Sam yelled back.

Dean slapped at his Sam's free hand as it came close to the coin and their attached hands. "What if your other hand gets stuck on it!"

Sam's hand froze. "We're really stuck together?"

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with his left hand. "You swear to me you didn't do this?"

Sam nodded his head, his eyes wide.

"Let's just get back to the motel and sort this out." Dean automatically tried to raise his right hand to turn the key in the ignition, but stopped short as he brought Sam's arm with it.

"Well, shit." He tired to get his left hand around the steering column, but the angle was all wrong. He looked over at Sam with a glance that clearly blamed Sam for his inability to even start the car.

Sam glared back at him. "Did you need something, Dean?"

"Yeah, I NEED to start the car, Sam."

"You could ASK!"

Dean's jaw clenched. "Sam. Could you start the car." It was a statement, not a question. "Please." The last word was forced out of his throat with a growl.

Sam reached over and cranked the engine, then sat back in his seat with a huff. Their hands were still connected, and each of them pulled slightly, trying to get their arm closer to their body. The coin seemed to burn hotly where it touched them.

Dean managed to get the car in gear with his left hand, then pulled out of the dirt parking lot, steering one handed down the street. They drove in silence, fuming the whole way to the cheap motel they had paid for last night. Dean parked the car in front of the room's door and awkwardly shoved the car into park.

"Sam."

Sam ignored his brother, trying to think if there was anything about cursed objects he could remember.

"Sam!" Sam turned his head to look at Dean. "The ignition. Turn it off."

"Oh." Sam reached over and killed the ignition, pulling the keys out and dropping them in Dean's lap.

They each grabbed a door handle and pushed the Impala's doors open, swinging their bodies to exit the vehicle. The coin stuck in their hands burned painfully on their skin as they tried to separate, and a small electric shock ran through their hands and up their arms.

"Ow!"

"What the hell?"

Their heads came close together as they looked down at the silver coin that was causing them all the difficulty. Dean tried to gently pull away his two fingers and thumb that were held fast to the coin. His skin touching the coin burned and another shock traveled up his arm.

"Dude, stop it! It hurts!" Sam shoved his brother's shoulder with his free hand.

"Come on. Scoot your ass this way and let's get out of the car." Dean pushed the driver's door all the way open and slowly climbed out of the car, keeping his arm extended so Sam could wiggled across the bench seat and out the door.

"We gotta call Bobby, Sam. I think you bought us a cursed coin."

"Not on purpose," Sam muttered. Dean didn't respond, as he was trying to dig the motel room key out of his right front pocket with his left hand.

"This really...," Dean triumphantly pulled the key out of his pocket. "Sucks!" He got the key in the lock and they pushed their way through the door, getting suck momentarily as they each hit a shoulder on the door jam.

Sam already had his phone out as Dean kicked the door shut behind them. The phone was ringing, and Sam almost absently crossed the room to sit on his bed. Dean was pulled along with him, and sat with a huff at the foot of the bed next to Sam.

"Hello?"

"Bobby! It's Sam. We've got a... um. Situation."

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "What did you two idjits do this time?"

Sam tried to rub his hand through his hair, but stopped as Dean yanked back his own hand, causing more pain and yet another shock. "I was buying silver at a flea market and there was this coin mixed in with all this other broken silver jewelry."

"Okay." Bobby's gravely voice was cautious, waiting for the bad news.

"It got stuck to my hand, and Dean tried to pull it off, and now it's stuck to him too."

There was a pause on the phone. "The coin is stuck to both your hands?"

"Yes."

"You boys are literally stuck together?"

"Yeah. And if we try to pull away, it burns really bad where the coin is touching and there is this kinda, electric shock thing."

"Huh. Sounds a bit familiar. Let me do some looking. I'll call ya'll back."

Sam snapped the phone shut. "Bobby said it sounds familiar. He'll call us back."

"He better find something. I am not spending the rest of my life holding hands with you."

It had been four hours since they returned to the motel room and talked to Bobby. Sam and Dean were sitting next to each other on the bed, leaning against the headboard, watching daytime TV.

Dean was pretty uninterested in the B-Movie that was on. But it distracted him from how his right hand was cramping from having three of his fingers constantly touching Sam's palm. If they would just stop aching, he might be able to fall asleep. Sam however, kept squirming around on the bed and it was driving Dean nuts.

Finally Sam swung his legs off the bed, leaving his arm twisted behind him. "I can't take it anymore, Dean!"

Startled, Dean stared at Sam, waiting to hear what sort of bomb Sam was about to drop. "What's wrong, Sam?"

"Man, I gotta pee!"

Dean's concern vanish. "Hold it!"

"I've been holding it! I gotta use the bathroom now, or I'm gonna piss on the bed!"

Dean shook his head. "I am NOT helping you!"

"Just close your eyes and I'll turn on the sink or something! I really have to go!"

"Fine." Dean scooted towards Sam's side of the bed and they walked to the bathroom. Sam turned the sink on, and walked towards the toilet. Dean was pulled along. "Where the hell am I supposed to stand, Sam? This bathroom was not made for two!"

In the end, Dean stood in the shower, his eyes closed for good measure. The running sink faucet drowned out most of the sound, but it was a distinctly uncomfortable moment. He hated to think what would happen when he had to pee. Or perform other bodily functions. And until this coin was gone, showering would just have to wait.

Sam's phone ran just as they returned to the bed.

"Bobby?" Sam answered as he put it on speaker phone.

Bobby sighed into the phone. "I found it. I know what you've got."

"What is it?! Can you get rid of it for us?" Dean's voice had a slightly panicked quality to it.

"I can't get rid of it, that'll up to you two!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Bobby?" Sam asked, not liking the way Bobby kept growling. Growling more than usual, anyway.

"What you've got is a touch piece coin. Usually they do things like cure disease or bring good luck. But I think you two idjits managed to stumble upon the Hebburn coin." He paused, waiting for them to ask.

Dean ground his teeth in frustration. "What does the Hebburn coin DO Bobby?"

"Well, the legend goes that two families were feuding back in the 1600's in the town of Hebburn. Lots of killings and blood-letting on both sides, until this witch somehow gets in the middle of the whole mess. She gets her knickers all in a twist and curses a coin. Gets the two heads of the family to touch the coin, and they're stuck together. Can't get apart until they quit feuding."

Shock made Sam and Dean's eyes meet each others for the first time that day. "Bobby." Sam said in an even voice. "We're not feuding heads of families. What gives?"

"You boys been fightin'again? Keepin' secrets and pickin' at each other? Sounds like a feud to me."

"Bobby, we're not..." Dean began.

"Sort it out!" roared Bobby from the phone. The line went dead with an audible click.

In the silence, Dean's stomach growled. Loudly.

Dinner was a torturous affair. After some snippy comments back and forth, they agreed that ordering pizza was preferable to being seen out of their room holding hands. The pizza delivery boy probably thought some very inappropriate things were going to happen in the motel room, but Dean shoved an extra ten at him, and he left happily.

Eating pizza one-handed was pretty natural, although opening the bottles of soda that came with their food took more team-work and coordination than either of them had really wanted. Through unspoken agreement, neither of them had mentioned their current predicament during the meal. Or really after dinner either. Dean was quietly fuming, and Sam was sitting there with a patient 'I can do this all night' look in his face that had Dean fuming even more.

They were watching a late movie, still on the same bed they'd been on all day when Sam finally broke the silence. "Dean, can't we just… you know? Talk?"

Dean scrubbed at his face, weariness etched into his features. "Sam…" he began hoarsely. "I can't… I… just, not tonight, okay?"

Sam swallowed down the flash of irritation and the comeback on his tongue and just nodded. Fine. Dean wanted to stay stuck together? Sam could hang.

Of course, having their hands stuck together meant no undressing for sleep, just boots toed off the edge of the bed. And there was no rolling over and curling up into the little ball under the covers that Sam usually did. Tonight it was on your back, try not to think about how weird it was to sleep in the same bed as your grown-up brother. He thought he would never be able to get to sleep. Of course he was wrong.

Dean was jolted awake by the horrible sound of Sam crying. It wasn't the first time, but it tore at his heart just the same. He wasn't sure what the nightmare was, but he supposed it didn't matter. When your brother was hurting, you didn't stop to ask too many questions, you just comforted him.

Their hands are still stuck together, so Dean slips Sam's arm across his own chest, Dean's arm behind Sam's shoulders. With his free hand, he cradles Sam's floppy-hair covered head to his chest, making vague shushing noises and waiting for Sam to wake up from his nightmare.

Sam awakes, but continues to cry, his free hand coming up to rub at his tear covered cheeks, the same way he used to when he was a kid. Dean's heart breaks for him, for the crappy life he grew up with, the life away from it all he almost had, for losing Jess, or losing Dad, for having such an emotionally stunted moron for a brother.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean murmurs. "I'm so sorry."

"S'okay, Dean," Sam mutters from Dean's t-shirt.

And just like that, Sam's hands falls from Dean's, the silver coin slipping down the crack between the headboard and the wall. But Dean doesn't remove his arm from behind Sam's shoulders, and Sam's hand reaches out to grasp Dean's wrist. For a moment, they're just brothers, broken, heartbroken, lonely brothers trying to find a little comfort in the only family they've got left. Tomorrow they can be assholes to each other again. Tonight, it's enough to apologize and forgive for everything and nothing at all.


End file.
